In Shadows
by xChristabelx
Summary: After discovering that he killed his family Farfarello is in need of help and a straitjacket just won't do. Warnings: alcohol use. Could be seen as Schuldig/Farfarello or as friendship. ONE-SHOT


"He will need restraining tonight," Crawford told Schuldig as they watched Farfarello stalk down the corridor. Schuldig nodded, indicating that he had understood the underlying order. For Crawford that meant he was no longer needed that night and that he could retreat to his office to file the report about that day's mission, leaving the German to deal with their deranged team mate.

Grumbling under his breath, Schuldig went to retrieve Farfarello's straitjacket from the closet next to the man's room. Restraining Farfarello was certainly not one of Schuldig's favourite things to do. He did find it rather inhumane, even cruel at times. Of course, Farfarello was bat-shit raging crazy, but it was likely that only a telepath could even begin to understand such insanity. The thing was, Schuldig knew, that Farfarello was not out of his mind and minds were generally easier to read when they were still intact. Farfarello's mind was intact, yet undeniably twisted beyond recognition. Frighteningly psychedelic, a lot worse than that horrible film 'Tommy' which Schuldig had once watched. No, Farfarello's mind was definitely not a place the telepath liked to linger, but he knew that it was there and that Farfarello knew what was happening around him. He even knew why the heavy white jacket Schuldig was currently holding was necessary, of that the telepath was sure, because otherwise Farfarello would fight it off. He never did.

Sighing, Schuldig went in search of Farfarello and it didn't take a lot of effort to find the madman. How could it, considering that he was sitting in the middle of a corridor, below a window through which the last rays of sunlight were streaming, tinting the surrounding area red and casting shadows where they could not reach.

Schuldig stopped a few feet from Farfarello, taking in the other man's appearance. There was no threat, the German realised at once and dropped the straitjacket to the floor. If anything, Farfarello looked dejected and exhausted. Not mad with bloodlust. But suddenly discovering that one had killed his family did that to a person, Schuldig knew. This was the closest to outright sad he would see his team mate and he would not apply any kind of cruelty at a time like this. Yes, Schuldig of Schwarz had a heart. Tainted as it might be, he kept what was left of it for his friends and for times like these.

Sighing silently, Schuldig knelt down beside Farfarello and laid a hand on his shoulder. Crawford would have his arse for not doing as he had been ordered, but the German had never cared about consequences.

"Farf, you can't stay here," Schuldig tried to rouse his team mate from his position on the floor. The reaction from the other man was minimal, but Farfarello did turn his head to set one deadened golden eye on Schuldig before turning back to stare at the opposite wall.

Schuldig frowned. He knew the straitjacket would be easier, a final argument, but he refused to use it. He would obviously have to try a different approach and reading Farfarello's mind would be a last resort which he hoped he wouldn't need.

"Wouldn't you prefer to be in your room?" the German tried again, now sitting down next to Farfarello.

"Can't." came the short stoic reply. It wasn't much, but it was a word and Schuldig could wor with that.

"Why not," he asked, frowning slightly.

"His flames will burn me." Farfarello replied, his tone of voice still unchanged. Schuldig nodded. 'He' was, of course, God and Farfarello was refusing to move from the shadows until the sun had set. That way it would not burn him. Schuldig deducted as much from the man's mind before he had to retreat from the raging madness surrounding him.

Schuldig could describe Farfarello's mind if he had to, he could describe anyone's mind, but in his insane team mate's case he rather thought that giving a full description of it would cripple him with madness. But that evening there had been one thing in the madman's mind that had practically been screaming to break through the surrounding insanity. There had been desperate, unbridled sadness, despair, almost. Schuldig knew that Farfarello would not be able to release those feelings. Not without aid.

The most obvious way to lure the emotions from the madman's mind would have been for Schuldig to use his telepathic powers, but he shuddered at the mere thought of doing so. No, there had to be another way.

Schuldig spared a glance towards the man sitting next to him. Farfarello had not moved a muscle, had been staring at the wall the whole time while Schuldig had been weighing his options. If anything would break through that night it would be madness, bloodlust and anger which would call for restraints and would harbour danger. Schuldig was not keen on sitting around, waiting for that to happen. In his opinion all that Farfarello needed was a good, quiet night's sleep. Well, as quietly as one could sleep through insanity.

The telepath let his mind linger on the thoughts of emotions and sleep for a while and followed the paths of half-formed solutions until one thought suddenly stuck. A half-grin formed on the German's face and he jumped up from the floor in one swift movement. That, at least, caught Farfarello's attention and that seemingly unseeing golden eye once again fixed him with an empty stare.

"Wait here and don't move," Schuldig commanded before jogging off down the corridor. He wasn't really worried that Farfarello would go anywhere, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Schuldig stopped in the kitchen and crouched down infront of the cupboard that served as liquor cabinet. He personally made sure that it was filled to the brim with every possible type of alcohol at all times. Grabbing a bottle of white tequila, Schuldig got up and kicked the cupboard door closed with his foot before hurrying back to where Farfarello was thankfully still sitting. The sun had almost set by now, producing even bloodier light and deeper shadows. Farfarello didn't look up when Schuldig returned.

Schuldig once again crouched down next to his team mate, this time holding out the bottle of alcohol.

"Drink," he offered, shaking the bottle for emphasis. Farfarello looked from the bottle to the redhead and back to the bottle before taking it. Schuldig didn't think he needed to check what the other man was thinking as long as Farfarello drank.

Farfarello unscrewed the bottle and crushed the top in his hand, the metal slicing into his skin making blood drip to the floor. Schuldig didn't even flinch, having come to expect such behaviour from his friend. Once Farfarello had lifted the bottle to his lips a few times to drink,Schuldig sat down next to the man once more, while darkness descended outside.

Farfarello had drained half the bottle by the time the automatic lights lining the corridor's ceiling had flickered to life, casting an artificial glow. A moth was fluttering along them, bumping up and down against the bright half-globes. Schuldig had been watching the insect with little interest until a rustle beside him caught his attention. Turning his head, the German saw that Farfarello had finally moved, his stance more relaxed, his golden eye vacant. Schuldig nodded to himself. This was what he had hoped for, partly.

Some time later three quarters of the bottle were empty and Schuldig's eyes were beginning to droop. It was late and Farfarello was not a very entertaining drunk. In fact, it was barely discernable that the man was inebriated at all. Except… Schuldig was suddenly startled out of his thoughts as Farfarello's head suddenly lay on his shoulder. Schuldig's eyes widened as he looked at his friend. Tears were streaming down Farfarello's face and he was clutching at Schuldig's green coat with one hand. Schuldig's stomach gave a strange uncomfortable lurch as he pulled the other man into his lap and wrapped his arms around the thin waist and back.

Farfarello cried silently for a while, his shaking shoulders the only indication of his current state of mind.

"I killed them," the madman finally choked out, his voice hoarse and thick with tears.

"Shh…," Schuldig breathed into the man's neck, his hand stroking soothing circles on Farfarello's back.

"It hurts." Farfarello's shoulders began to shake more violently. Schuldig had to bite his lip harshly at the sting of tears in his own eyes, but he had to stay strong now.

"I know, Liebes." Schuldig murmured, against his friend's pale neck, keeping up his attempts at calming Farfarello.

"How?" Farfarello asked. "How can you know?"

Farfarello sounded almost angry, but a choked cough cut off his tirade. Schuldig handed him the earlier discarded bottle once more. The alcohol would momentarily help with Farfarello's dry throat and Farfarello drank while Schuldig considered answering his friend's question.

"I've felt it." He replied simply, just as Farfarello emptied the bottle and let it slip to the floor. The madman's head fell forward to rest against Schuldig's chest.

"It hurts," he murmured once more before slipping into unconsciousness.

Schuldig let Farfarello rest there for a while before carrying the sleeping man to his bed. The straitjacket was left crumpled on the floor. It would not be needed that night and Schuldig would retrieve it later. Or maybe he would leave it there for Crawford t find. Their leader would find out about all this anyway and would undoubtedly be angry. Crawford was going to have Schuldig's arse for defying him, but the German was determined to give him an obvious reason, just for the fun of it. The straitjacket and an empty bottle of tequila would do just nicely.


End file.
